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“Wait,” I breathed in between kisses.
His hands flew up my shirt, tearing it over my head so his mouth could cover every square inch of my neck, shoulders, and chest.
“Ignore it,” he muttered as he unsnapped my bra and tossed it down to the ground. With a half-painful, half-enraptured groan, he buried his face into the sensitive skin between my breasts.
I followed his order. Instead, I focused on tugging his shirt over his head, eager to feel the taut expanse of his toned chest. His lips found mine again as one hand clasped the back of my head, holding it still so he could conquer my mouth completely. I grasped around his back, hard enough to make him jerk when my fingernails dug into his shoulders.
With a groan, he pushed the bench back and stood up, wrapping his free arm underneath my legs to keep me firmly wrapped around his waist. I kicked off my pumps and hooked my ankles together, unwilling to give up any space between our bodies.
“Need you,” Brandon heaved in between kisses. “Need you. Now.”
“Yes,” I agreed, wholeheartedly, then stopped when I realized he wasn’t carrying me upstairs or even to the couch, but to the top of the closed piano. “Whaaaat are you doing?”
His mouth drifted back down my torso as he pushed me to lie back on the hard surface. The buttons on my pants came undone easily with a few flicks of his fingers.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Brandon mumbled before taking a nipple into his mouth. He peeled off my pants along with my underwear.
“You can’t fuck me on a hundred-thousand-dollar instrument!” I cried out, although my treacherous body only urged him on as my hips thrust toward his waiting hands and my hands clutched at the blond mop moving steadily down my stomach.
“I bought it to play, Red,” Brandon growled. “So, let’s play.”
His tongue dipped into my navel, causing me to squirm, but his hands gripped my ass and held me still. He wrenched my legs open, spreading me like a buffet.
“Jesus, baby,” he breathed as he looked at me.
One hand released me long enough to swipe a long finger up my center. The finger traveled up until it was poised over my mouth.
“Suck,” Brandon ordered, eyes dark with desire.
Obediently I opened my mouth and took the rough, salty fingertip onto my tongue, sucking hard and then releasing with a sudden pop. Brandon’s eyes darkened even more. The hand traveled back down my body, pinching one nipple as it went and causing me to yelp. My hips thrust toward him—I craved his touch, any kind of it.
He traced his mouth over the soft skin of my lower stomach and inner thighs—anywhere but where I desperately wanted him to be. One finger, then two gently slipped inside, and I bucked.
“Please,” I breathed, barely able to get out any words. I wanted him so badly I couldn’t think.
“Easy, baby,” Brandon said, laying kisses closer and closer, nuzzling his face in between my legs without making any contact with his mouth.
A third finger slipped in with the first two, all seeking that delicate bundle of nerves inside me. I groaned as Brandon blew cool air over me.
“Brandon,” I whimpered. “Please.”
“Please what, gorgeous?” His voice rumbled and teased against my skin. “I don’t know what you want if you don’t say it.”
“Please…ah!” I cried out as his fingers twisted within me before resuming their steady, pulsing movements. “Fuck! You know what I want.”
“Do I?”
“Gah! Yes, you do!”
I desperately wanted contact, and he refused to give it to me. Instead, he pulled away.
“You smell so good,” he murmured with a brief kiss on my inner thigh and another into the small patch of hair that surrounded his fingers. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you. But you’re going to have to say it.”
“Taste me,” I repeated.
His fingers had picked up their pace, and I was starting to lose feeling in my legs.
“Taste what, Skylar? Say it.”
